


Wedding Night

by Murf1307



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This night has been a year in the making, but it's finally here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Night

He carries her over the threshold of their apartment, and she’s rolling her eyes and laughing the whole time, but they both keep sneaking glances at the wedding rings on their fingers.  Because they’ve done it, they’ve finally done it – they’ve beaten the worst odds they’ve ever faced (and they  _met_  facing nearly impossible odds, for God’s sake!), and they’re married now.

“So, Mrs. Kelly,” Jack says, his voice practically a purr.  “I was thinkin’ – we got the apartment all to ourselves tonight.”

More often than not they’ve got a newsboy or two crashing in their living room, or Davey’s spent the night helping them work on something union-related, but tonight is their wedding night, and everyone knows well enough to stay far, far away.

“Why yes we do, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine replies, her eyes sparkling with mischief even as butterflies take up residence in the pit of her stomach.

 

He doesn’t put her down, just grins that roguish grin at her and carries her to the bedroom.  She laughs again, knowing what he means to imply, and keeps her arms slung around his neck as they enter.  She pulls him down with her when he places her down on the bed, and he sprawls over her, gorgeous and lean and, as always, all she’s ever wanted.

He’s smiling at her like it’s a gift she’s giving him, and he kisses her gently on the mouth, one hand threading fingers through her hair, pulling it out of the carefully arranged wedding hairdo because he loves her like this, but he loves her better when she’s as she always is – with her hair half down, alight with energy trying to change the world with the written word while he helps the helpless – and he’s going to commit every moment of this night to memory, so he’s gotta take it slow.

She pulls him closer, deepening the kiss before moving her hands down to fiddle with some of the fastenings on his jacket.  She wants this tonight – wants everything they’ve been building toward this year since they met and did something no one had ever done before, since he decided not to leave, since she decided that she loved him more than she needed her father.

She wants to give him everything.

They’ve touched before, his hand on her thigh under her skirt or her breast over her thin linen chemise, her mouth on his bare collarbone – intimate touches in the dark because they’re not saints and they want each other as much as they love each other.

But tonight is different.  Tonight, she can let go of the limit that had kept them from doing this earlier.  It had been her decision to wait for tonight, because she wanted this little piece of tradition even as she gave up so many others for their causes, for her career, for this incredible love that she’s found and intends to cling to for the rest of the night.

He catches her hands and stares at her fervently.  “You wanna?”

“Of course,” she murmurs back.  She takes his hands and presses them to her chest, slides them down her sides, over the dress but hopefully not for long.  When she chose it she made sure it wouldn’t be hell to take off or put on, because she doesn’t want to damage it and fears that they would if it took them too long. 

It takes a couple of minutes for the both of them to lose their clothes, and then she’s looking at his bare skin, and he at hers, and there’s an electricity in the room that he thinks might kill him before the night is through.  She’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, ever kissed, ever touched,  and he’s going to do his damnedest to show her that tonight.  He can’t help but kiss her again before he lets himself touch her, his body hovering precariously over hers.

It’s a wet, hot kiss this time, and she throws her arms around his neck again, soft skin hot on the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders.  It’s going to be damn hard to take it slow, because she seems determined to make him want her even more as every moment passes.

She’s never done this before, and she’s sure he has.  Part of her is nervous – hell, most of her is nervous – and the rest of her’s determined that she’s going to make it the best time he’s ever had.  So she kisses him fiercely and runs one hand down his arm and back up, tantalizing, almost teasing him.

He lets out this noise into the kiss, and he touches her, finally, his hand flattening against her stomach.  His callused palm feels incredible against her skin, and she arches a little into the touch.  She wants him to touch her everywhere, wants to feel every inch of him, too.

“We’re gonna go slow,” he mumbles between kisses.

“What if I don’t want to?” she asks, hand playing over his chest.

“You’ve never done this before, sweetheart, and I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”  He’s steady on that fact – he’s never going to do anything he knows is going to hurt his angel.

She glares at him, but accepts the fact – he’s immovable right now, and  _he’s_  the one with experience here.

He smiles at her and kisses her again, gentle, before moving his lips down her throat, over her collarbones.  He stops a while to worship at the altar of her breasts, and she makes the most beautiful sounds when he does, his tongue on her making her feel fire she’s never felt before.

He proceeds down, and she’s wet between her legs now, wetter than she’s ever been.  He’s going to drive her absolutely mad with desire, she knows it.

Slowly, he kneels between her legs – she’s not sure when they fell open, but neither of them is going to complain – and curls his hands briefly around her hips.  He meets her eyes seriously.  “I’m gonna touch you, and I’m gonna make it feel good, I swear to god.”

“What about you?” she asks, and part of her aches for him to make good on his promise, but the rest of her is drawn to look pointedly at where his desire is centered.  She can’t help but blush at it, suddenly unsure of everything; she was never taught anything about things like this, and she’d never really considered needing to know it, not until him.

He smiles, shaking his head.  “We’ll get to it, don’t worry.  I just wanna make sure it doesn’t hurt you when we do.”

Then, one of the hands on her hip slides down, trailing fingertips down the crease of her thigh to where she’s wet.  The first moment he touches her, she gasps, because she’s never felt quite that sensation before – it’s  _sensitive_ , almost a shock to be touched there.

He grins at her – cheeky boy, even after a year – and brushes his fingertips over every inch of her, occasionally pausing to drum over a particularly sensitive spot that makes her arch into his hands.

He’s an artist, but here, he can play her like a fiddle.

He loves it, too, the smile on his face never changing even as his own arousal makes it difficult to focus.  God, he wants to be inside her, but he wants to make this good for her, too, so he’s going to have to wait.

After a few minutes of that, of teasing touches that bring her almost to the brink of what she knows is orgasm, he leans down and kisses just below her navel.  He proceeds downward, replacing where his fingers had been with his mouth.  If his mouth on her breasts had been incredible, this was even more so, and he handles the way she bucks against his mouth with aplomb.

He brushes a finger down her folds, wetness gathering on his fingertip.  He removes his mouth from her to say, “I’m going to put my finger inside you, first, if that’s okay?”

She nods down at him, dazed from lust and the sudden flare of want at the idea.

He smiles and returns to his work. 

When he presses his finger inside her, it’s agonizingly slow, and yes, part of it _does_ hurt.  She’s virgin-tight, after all, and she’s not sure what to make of the mix of the pleasure and pain.  She thinks she might like it.  After a long moment, his finger is buried in her to the knuckles.

It’s a little strange, but she thinks she likes it.  Experimentally, she shifts her hips – after all, when he’s inside her for real, he’s going to be moving.

There’s a sharp sting of pain for a moment that takes her breath away, but she pushes through it, and then it feels – it feels  _good._

Not as good as his mouth on her, but still good, and she’s sure that if he moves the way she’s expecting him to, it’s going to get there.  She rolls her hips again and leans up on her elbows to look at him, and he’s staring at her like he’s never wanted something more than he wants her right now.

“God,” he rasps, his lips shiny from spit and her wetness.  “That’s –“

It’s like he can’t continue, and she grins, proud and exhilarated that she can reduce him to speechlessness even before he’s actually inside her.  “I’m glad you like it.”

He hears the unspoken challenge in her voice, and smirks at her.  Then his mouth is on her again, and he’s  _moving_  that finger inside her, curling it and brushing over something that makes her absolutely cry out in unexpected pleasure.  He repeats the motion, again, a third time, a fourth, each time driving her higher and higher.

And then she orgasms, sharp and bright and shattering, going quiet from the force of her pleasure.  She tenses and then goes boneless, throbbing around his finger and thoroughly oversensitized. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into her thigh.  He touches himself for a moment, because his self-restraint only goes so far, and he’s never seen anything this gorgeous in his life.

“I think I might have died and gone to heaven,” she admits in the afterglow, a slack smile on her face.

He laughs.  “Oh, sweetheart, you’re still breathin’.”

“Then I’m guessing that it’s your turn?” she asks, working herself up onto her elbows again as he slips his finger out of her.  She feels oddly empty without it there, opened up and sensitive.

He makes a little groan in response, again speechless – this time, from how matter-of-fact she is.

“Get up here,” she orders, tugging him into an embrace and a kiss.  She can taste herself on his tongue, and she wonders, briefly, what he’d taste like – but that’s for another night, she thinks, because tonight is the night they do exactly what married couples ought to do on their wedding night.

It’s another hot, wet kiss, and she slides her hand down his body to take him in hand.  He groans when her hand curls around him, and she smiles against his mouth, tugging experimentally. 

She’s pretty sure she can handle this.  She  _wants_  to handle this, pain be damned, because she can imagine what  _he’ll_  look like in the midst of orgasm, and that’s a sight she sorely wants to see before the night is through.

“I want you inside me,” she whispers against his lips, moving her hips closer to his.

“God, when you say it like that,” he mutters, laughing a little. 

She looks at him almost imperiously – moments like this are ones where it’s clear that she’s powerful, and from powerful stock – and slides her hand along him again.

He shudders, and she smirks at him.  “Do it,” she encourages, and lays down again, framing him with spread legs and feeling another ache of want starting up within her.  She wonders if she’ll orgasm again with him inside her, and hopes so, but she’s mostly interested in just seeing  _him_  get there.

“Fine,” he says, voice nearly shaking, and he lines himself up.  Carefully, so carefully, he presses against her, pushing gently until he breaches her.  This stings, too, but not so bad as the finger had – it had opened the way at least a little – and he starts this long slow slide into her that drives her a little mad.  He’s longer and thicker than his finger was, and she feels so  _full_  like this, and it’s so good to feel.

He’s feeling good, too, absolutely brilliant.  His arms are shaking from how much he’s restraining himself – he’d felt her flinch when he first pressed inside her – but _god_ , she’s so tight and wet around him that now he thinks  _he’s_  in heaven.

Eventually, he bottoms out inside her, his hips pressed against hers, and she wraps her legs around his waist to keep him there, adjusting to how he feels inside her.

He rains kisses on her jaw and throat, one hand tangling in her abundant brown hair again – God, he loves her hair – and waits for her to say she’s fine for him to start moving.  He’ll wait as long as need be, even if it feels like it’s going to kill him to do it.

After a moment, her legs loosen a little, and she shoves at him playfully.  “Come on,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss him.  “I’m ready.”

He smiles into her kiss and begins, a long, slow thrust.  She gasps, but she makes it obvious that it’s pleasure, and he’s slowly dying from it himself.  They move like that, slowly, against each other – because she’s rolling her hips to meet him every time, and he knows he loves her, but he feels it even more strongly now, with her under him and surrounding him and working with him like this.

Slowly the pace picks up.  Her hands settle on his shoulders, tight enough to scratch, and he stops being afraid of breaking her.

By the time he’s close to orgasm, the pace is almost punishing, and she’s yowling with pleasure and he’s groaning out his own.  It catches in his throat when she orgasms again, pulsing around him, and that’s what draws him over the edge.  He cries out, short and ragged, and spills insider her as she kisses him.

After a few moments, he pulls out of her, his shoulders shaking and his body coming down off of lust and adrenaline, and lays down beside her.

“Was that good?” he asks her, wrapping his arms around her.

She turns over to look at him, and her only answer is a long, languid kiss.  It’s all right, though – he knows an affirmative when he sees one.

They drift off to sleep like that, wrapped up in each others’ arms and utterly, completely satisfied.


End file.
